Of Love and War
by Showmeyourteeth-xo
Summary: A Short fanfic based on the movie adaptation of 'War Horse'
1. Chapter 1

Her fingers tapped; a repeated sequence of four as they fell against the wooden table top. Her head rested sluggishly in her other palm, her face stained red with the constant flourishes of tears escaping her crystal blue hues. It had been four days since her husband had left. Left to fight the mightiest of battles - to fight a war little understood how had come around. And her husband was one of the many men that were sacrificing their lives for King and Country. Her heart ached inside her chest - the pattering of small feet the only sound that kept her sanity with her. She prayed every passing night that James would return home, safe and unharmed by the enemies attacks. That he would come up behind her one day while she was out collecting the washing and just wrap his long arms around her waste and spin her like they were newly wed once again.  
Though she was young in years - a mere age of two and a half decades, with James older than her by two years. Their child, aged six, had been conceived outside of wedlock, which although had created shame upon Catherine from her father, it was a blessing for her to have a child. Her young boy was her rock in these hard times, and at such a young age it was difficult to understand why his father was gone, after having spent so much time with young Jeffrey since his birth. She could see the pride James held in his only son - and the thought of his being a bastard never fazed him. He was his family - his son, and she was now his wife. It was the family portrait that James had always wanted. And now, he was not here to see it grow, because of this damned war.

"Mummy." the high-pitched voice spoke out softly as his little blond frame stood in the doorway of the family kitchen, and quickly, Catherine Nicholls spun in her seat to look to her son, her fingertips wiping at her eyes, although nothing was there. "Yes, son?" she questioned, a smile coming naturally to her worn features at the image of her son. He looked so much like James, it almost hurt to look upon him, but she had so much pride for him. He was the only family she had left, and to avoid her child because of his father's genetics would have been completely idiotic. "I heard you crying again.. I wanted to see if you were alright." he answered honestly, his voice crackling with his own emotions. She held out her arms, signalling him to come over, and once he had, she wrapped them tightly round his fragile structure. "Don't cry because I cry, Son. Everything's alright." she comforted, planting a sequence of kisses to his light, blond hair. "Daddy will come back. He wouldn't want to see you cry." Jeffrey mentioned, and Catherine nodded her head softly, nuzzling against her young. "I know. Daddy would be calling me silly, wouldn't he?" she tried to joke, and she felt Jeffrey move with laughter. "Yes.. And then he would play horses with me."  
Her son's statement caused a genuine laugh to emerge from Catherine's lips. "He always did make a fantastic horse." she admitted, a blush creeping across her features, though she hid it from the witness of her child. "Mummy.. Can we play outside? Mr. Moore from the village made me a ball to play with." Jeffrey stated, pulling away from Catherine, who looked to him with interest. "He did? that was very kind of him. Did you say thank you?"  
"Of course I did mummy!" he pulled at her hand. "Come on. You didn't say no."  
"If you insist, I suppose it would be better than sitting inside all day, and it a beautiful, spring morning." she mused, mostly to herself before raising to her feet, her skirt falling to it's full length, and with her son's persistence, she followed outside after him.

The hours that passed were filled with joy and laughter from both parties that occupied the Nicholls' household, with the border collie resting on the sun-warmth grass, and the chickens clucking aimlessly as they ran around their coop. It was moments like this that Catherine returned to her usual, young at heart, self. Spending quality time with her child, and enjoying the happiness that controlled his face when he spent time with other people - it was difficult to remember the sadness that had been created when James had left.  
"Mummy, i'm hungry. Can we have some lunch?" Jeffrey asked, stopping the lightly-weighted ball by his foot, and Catherine wiped her hands automatically upon her skirt. "Of course.. I'm rather famished myself. What would you like?" she questioned, and Jeffrey paused in thought. "Bread.. and some of Sunday's turkey. It was lovely." he admitted, and Catherine directed him a grin. "Turkey and bread it is then.. I believe I bought ingredients down in the market yesterday, so I could bake a fresh loaf, and you shall dine like King George himself." she spoke out, before the two of them made their way back into the kitchen of the small house.  
Jeffrey vacated, returning back to his small bedroom upstairs while Catherine gathered the required ingredients together, and as she worked, a minimal amount of mess was created; with only a few patches of flour crossing the working station she had claimed. She wiped her forehead with her palm briefly, creating a white patch across her naturally light skin.  
The sound of the door knocking caused her being to jump, a small cloud of flour being created as she patted her hands to rid of it. The leftover residue, she wiped down her white apron, and hurriedly, she approached the door; opening it to expose a man standing before her.

"Mrs. Nicholls." he announced, and Catherine nodded her head. "Yes. This is she."  
He brought his hands from behind his back; in them, he held a tattered piece of paper, folded for carrying use. Slowly, she took it, opening it from its' small size, and slowly began to read through. "It is a letter from your husband ma'am. It is with deep sorrow that I bring the news. Captain Nicholls had been shot down by German soldiers during an attack. His body has not been found.."  
Her heart snapped, slowly looking back towards the man; tears escaping from her eyes. Her face contorted from a natural sadness, to absolute despair; her body becoming weak before this soldier. Her free hand gripped her stomach, and she crouched over, crunching the letter in her hand.  
The soldier, as much as he wanted to help her and comfort her, remained still before the grieving woman, removing his hat at a formal motion of sorrow. "I am truly sorry, Mrs. Nicholls. We can only pray that he survived such an horrific incident.. Our thoughts are with you at this terrible time.."  
With his words, he departed, and Catherine helplessly fell to her knees; weeping.


	2. Chapter 2

The rain thundered through the countryside - the chickens resting in their own little house away from the constant falling of harsh water; the family dog whining in the front porch as it sat guard upon the front door, and inside, the house was occupied with the atmosphere of death. Jeffrey had not spoken for days, nor had Catherine. Exchanges were never made between the once inseparable pair of mother and son; the only connections made during the day being the handing over of meals and a kiss to Jeffrey's head once he had fallen into his dreamland. He now understood why his mother had been so sad, and he too, felt the overpowering feeling at the news of his father's death.  
It was hard to believe that a year had passed from the news was given to the Nicholls household. Though, it had not been announced outright that James had died - the news they had received was basically those words. He was missing, in a war that saw nothing but evil - and he was gone for a year now. What was the likely-hood of him being gone from British soldiers for this long?  
They believed he was dead. He had to be.  
Catherine sniffed; a constant year of crying herself to sleep and she rested underneath the sheets that she once shared with her truly beloved husband. His smell lingered upon it, no matter how many times she had washed the fabric. It was a smell she both loved and hated now. Her pillow, held a collection of salty tears underneath her resting head, and as she lay on her shoulder, she stared out towards the dull skies above the English countryside.  
James had always wanted a house surrounded by fields, choosing it as a better family environment than a place where both his child and his woman would be exposed to danger. And Catherine completely agreed with his choice, although was not overly fond of the exposure to dreadful weather conditions as such.

The weather matched the mood of the house. Dark, dismal. There was nothing either being could do to bring happiness as a stronger power now - not even a game with the ball that had become so tattered by their dog. She closed her heavy eyes, stopping the next flow of tears to escape from them. She had cried for so long, it hurt to do so any more. Her face was permanently tinted with exhaustion, and her once porcelain skin was roughed with red. She looked older than her years of 26 - earth was not being good to her now.  
She even began to doubt her faith. The man had promised prayers from the soldiers, and women she knew offered their hand and prayers to the Lord to be with her and her son during this dark time.  
But was the Lord really there?  
If he was, then why was he so cruel to take her only true love away from her? She had done no wrong in her life - she lived well and served God with her soul, and yet, he repaid her with death and sorrow.  
How could he be true?  
"Mummy." a voice spoke, and slowly, she turned around. The voice of Jeffrey broke through the silence that had accidentally been created between them, and as she looked to her son, she noticed his face had also become marked with red - a signal to constant tears. "Jeffrey.." she croaked out, and watched as his face contorted to despair, scrunching as he openly wept towards his mother, in which she quickly moved to pull him to her, resting her head upon his as she cried in unison with him. "I miss daddy.." he wailed, and Catherine nodded, her lip quivering as the un-shed tears escaped and trickled down her cheeks.  
"I know pet.. I miss him too. I miss him too.." her hand stroked Jeffrey's hair, comforting her child in their shared moment of grief. How could she have forgotten how much he needed her now? She may have lost her husband, but he had lost his father too. She had been so selfish, not being there for her child. Catherine pulled him tighter, embracing Jeffrey as he nuzzled against his frail mother.  
"We will see him in heaven, won't we?" he asked, pulling away so he could look at his mother; his blue hues glistening with the water in his eyes. She brushed his blond hair back with her fingers, reassuring him with a smile upon her face - though it did not hold genuine happiness. "Yes. We will Darling."  
"I bet, he's sitting with all the angels, telling them about us. Maybe he's even playing horses with all the other boys and girls." he exposed, a wobbly giggle coming through his lips, and Catherine's grin became real once again. "And they all love him just as much as we do. He's safe up there, Jeffrey. Nothing's going to hurt your daddy in heaven."  
"Good, and nothing is going to hurt you mummy. Daddy said, before he left, that I am the man of the house now, so I have to protect you."  
"He said that?"  
"Yes. I promised him I would, because I know he loves you so much. And so do I."

His innocence made her emotional; overcome with a sudden happiness, and quickly, she stood to her feet, holding her child against her. "So, Mr Man of the House. What should we do now? We can't play outside, because the rain is horrible." she expressed, and Jeffrey tilted his head. "We eat. I'm starving.."


	3. Chapter 3

A further three years had passed; coming to total of four years filled with war and torment to families all across the British land. Everywhere they turned, weeping women and grieving elders expressed their heartache, and with them, people gathered to offer comfort and reassurance that their lives were going to be fine. Catherine offered her hand to the Narracott family, with their son having been participating in the war, it was an opening to a strong friendship between her and the mother, Rose. Ted Narracott often spent time with Jeffrey, teaching him about horses and how glorious these animals were, while the two women baked bread and cakes with each other.  
It was a comfort to Catherine, knowing that she no longer had to suffer the family's loss alone, and to see Jeffrey's happiness once again brought her a strong amount of peace. She knew, at night he still prayed for his father - hoping that Heaven would send him back and give him another chance at life. Jeffrey was ten now, though mentally, he was a lot older. His intelligence was impressive to his mother - he knew things not even she was aware of in her time, and at her age of twenty-nine, dawning upon her third decade of life, she was finally falling into the category of a typical English woman. Her childhood had fully diminished, although she still remained hold of a single part in order to keep the relationship with her son. But the days of missing household chores to play a game of ball no longer existed.

Her body rummaged hastily through the kitchen, tearing at cupboards as she gathered her equipment for cooking, but came to drop them at the urgent arrival of her son. "Mother!" he announced, his pace of running diminishing as he reached the kitchen. "Oh." he quickly added, before helping her gather the broken pieces of ceramic. "What is it, Jeffrey?" she questioned, taking the sharp pieces from his hands, in order to prevent injury to him. "The Narracott's son has returned from war!"  
As he spoke, Catherine placed the broken pieces into the bin for disposal, but did not turn around at what he had said. Her head hung slightly - she was happy that their son had returned home safe. "He says, the War is over, and that we won." Jeffrey further added, and Catherine quickly hurried back to her work space. "That is fantastic news. I should bake the Narracotts' a cake for celebration.." she automatically replied, which made Jeffrey step towards his mother. "Mum?" he spoke out, though noticed his word was ignored. "Mum." he repeated, and she quickly spun round, a frown upon her features. "What, Jeffrey?" she snapped, but soon realized and shook her head, her face contorting back to softness. "I'm sorry.. I should not have snapped at you."  
"Aren't you happy that Albert Narracott is home? They're all coming home.. Even father might-"  
"Your father is dead, Jeffrey. He died four years ago. There's no way he could come back."  
"We don't know that for certain-"  
"Yes, we do, Jeffrey. They never found him, he never returned to the British camp. He was shot and killed on the battlefield."  
Her exposure made Jeffrey frown heavily towards his mother. "Where is your faith?" he questioned, before marching away, leaving her to her importance.

An hour passed; silence cascading around the home like it once had. A guilt spread through Catherine at what she had said to her son, and quickly, she chased out to him, noticing him resting by their dog's side. She noticed he had aged, growing from a lively pup to an old man now. He too, must have felt to grief his owner's death had brought to the family. "Jeffrey.." she spoke out, her voice softer than before. He intentionally ignored her, but as she approached and sat by his side, he slowly turned his attention to her. "What?" he stated, and she hung her head.  
"I wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have said what I did in there, and I certainly should not have tried to blame you. I guess I still feel grief after the news of your father, it saddens me to hear of these soldiers coming home, and your father not being among them."  
"Though we can't be certain of that. Maybe he hid from the Germans and the British because he did not want to fight?"  
"I wish that were the truth, Son."  
"That is what I have been believing over the years. that's why I don't cry as often as you do." he attempted a joke, in which she laughed to. "For that, you can feed Rodger tonight." she answered, and both beings raised to their feet. The crackling of thunder above them made both parties sigh, and Jeffrey ruffled Rodger's black and white fur. "I'll feed him now.."  
"And I'll gather the washing. It should all be dry by now.." she spoke out, and quickly, the two of them departed.

Continues in Chapter 4..


	4. Chapter 4

She hummed aimlessly - the tune her mother used to always sing as a lullaby to her children before they drifted into the world of dreamland. It was something that soothed Catherine, a song that held such a beautiful melody that it blocked out the pain and suffering of the passing war. She often sang it to Jeffrey when she tucked him to bed, and even heard James singing it to him when he was nothing more than a tot. She could remember the image - _James standing over the newly build cot for their son, holding the little bundle of baby wrapped in blankets for warmth. He rocked Jeffrey slowly as his child's limb sprawled around his fathers' frame, his chubby fist gripping James' hair. He had the voice of an angelic choir, singing sweet lullabies to all the children in England. Catherine had approached from behind, softly, quietly, refusing to make a sound that could waken the peaceful rest. James had almost fallen into a slumber himself, and when he felt his child had gone to dreamland, he carefully placed back into his cot. Catherine would wrap her arms around her newly wedded husband, and press her forehead between his shoulder blades, and he would allow her to take in his scent - let her mind believe that this was actually their reality._  
Even though it no longer was.

The crashing of thunder, followed by the flooding downpour of rain made Catherine return to her recent reality, and under her breath she muttered a profanity, before quickly gathering her woven laundry basket, and rushing out the back area of the house.  
The wind blew the laundry, absorbing the raindrops that landed upon the sheets. Her feet sunk slightly deeper into the ground with the wet mud, and the chickens clucked frantically with each drop that landed on their heads. They circled her feet, before retreating to their coop. "Go on, get out of the rain you daft creatures!" she managed to laugh, pulling the sheets down before the wind took them to the city. She rolled them hastily, pushing them into the basket that she held in her right arm, before she heard the constellation of barks coming from their dog, Rodger. "Jeffrey, have you fed him yet?" Catherine called out, turning her head to look towards the house. She expected to see her son moving through the kitchen, collecting leftover scraps from supper to feed their elderly pet; but to see the area empty, made confusion travel through her system. Where would he be? Rodger would not bark if Jeffrey was with him.  
"Jeffrey!" she called out again; and still, she was met with humane silence. Thunder crashed again, and quickly, Catherine gathered the washing, before running round to the front of the house.

She checked Rodger, and seen that he had food sitting before him in his dish, but as he barked, she shook her head. "Where's Jeffrey, Rodger? Did you see him?" she questioned the dog, as if he were to give a verbal answer, and slowly, she brought her hand up, gathering droplets on her fingers as she glided them through her dark hair. For a moment, her head turned - and it was a moment of pure disbelief that seemed to exist for centuries. Time fell slow as the washing basket dropped from her grip under her arm, spilling the freshly washed fabrics into the mud. Her eyes widened from their natural size; her mouth gaped in shock.  
There he stood; as tall as she could remember. A bandage covering half his face, and his uniform in tatters, and in his hand, he held their sons', who's smile as broad as the English Channel. Catherine could not prevent the agonizing scream that escaped her mouth as she crouched over, tears streaming freely from her eyes as she witnessed him. Her husband; her James.  
She quickly broke into a run in his direction; forgetting the washing, forgetting her chores. Even the thunderous rain became a faded part of the reality surrounding her - and it was the quickest she had ever run in her life.  
Her body met his; a clambering hug of disbelief and joy. Her fists gathered the fabric of his uniform that covered his back; her head dipping against his shoulder as he lifted her to his embrace, and she cried. She openly cried in relief that he was real. She could feel him; smell him. He wasn't dead - even if she believed he was.  
And he hugged her back just as passionate - a small trickle of water escaping from his eye at her relieving embrace upon him. "It has been so long, my Darling Catherine.." he whispered, his lips peppering her head with kisses. "I thought you were dead!" she cried into his shoulder, her body shaking with the overcoming power of emotion, and he simply nodded his head. "I am here, my Love. I promised I would return."

Catherine slowly loosened her grip upon him, and softly pulled herself away to look upon her husband's face. His expression was filled with fear and agony - both mentally and physically created; and her fingers slowly traced lines down his bandaged face. "You were shot down by the Germans." she spoke out, her voice still crackled by her tears, and he nuzzled against her touch, his visible eye closing. "I was.." he answered, pulling Jeffrey back to his side. He crouched down, slowly, coming to his son's level as he held him by his shoulders. "You have grown so much since I left for war. I am very proud of the man that you have become. You have to promise me that you will protect your mother now, okay?" he spoke towards the young boy, who in turn, nodded his head approvingly. Catherine, on the other hand, furrowed her brow. "James?" she questioned, earning his attention.  
"And Catherine. My beautiful, darling Catherine. The times we have spent together have been times I will never forget. You have taught me many things that other women never could, and when you accepted the offer of my heart, you made me the happiest man alive." he reached out and took a firm hold of her hand, his own as cold as December's ice. "I am a man of my word, and I was fortunate enough to be permitted my promise.. But I must head back."  
"Head back? Back to where?" Catherine questioned, her bottom lip quivering, in which James pressed his finger against. "No. I have seen you mourn my love, and it ached to see you so sad. You cannot cry anymore, alright? You know now that I am safe, and I want you to always know that I love you." he exposed, and Catherine softly nodded her head. "And I love you, James Nicholls. With all my heart.."  
With her words, James pulled her forward; his lips connecting with her's like they had the first time they shared such a moment of romance. Their eyes closed lightly, and she could feel his hands fading from her touch, which caused her to pull away to look. "James.. You're.." she paused, looking to his face, and met his charming, British smile. "_I'll see you in heaven, my Darling Catherine_." were his final words, and Catherine watched as her love slowly faded away - his once physical body becoming nothing more than replaced rain.

She felt Jeffrey take a hold of her hand, and slowly, she turned her head, looking down towards her son. In surprise, she granted him a genuine smile, in which he mirrored. "Shall we go and see the Narracott's now?" he questioned, and Catherine slowly nodded her head. "Of course, my son. Of course."


End file.
